Denial
by cndrow
Summary: Raph and Mikey are a couple. Don's admired Leo for years, but Leo gently tells him he's straight. As the months go by, however, Leo begins to question himself. Warning: language, turtlecest, angst, references to the episode Same As It Never Was.
1. Chapter 1

Greetings! This story is being born from my desire to write Leo/Don, so... There you have it. That's about all the reason I need to write something. XD  
>I can't guarantee when this will be updated- frequently, certainly, but I can't <em>guarantee.<em>I have to write as inspiration strikes, so this may not have an update for a week or two, then BAM- three chapters in a day. So feel free to throw it on your watch list if you like it. ^_^

**There will be turtlecest** (LeoxDon; RaphxMikey) and very likely a lemony chapter or three, so please make friends with your Back Button now if you do not enjoy that subject.

Enjoy, and I hope you stick around for the next chapter!

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><p><span>Denial<span>

Chapter One  
><em>Splinter<br>_

It's not often my sons call _me_ to a discussion. They're seventeen now, wise beyond their years, mature in aspects I suspect most human adults never achieve. My role as their father is limited at this stage in their life; I am here for consultation and advice, but as long as they are respectful of my teachings and each other, I feel there are no lessons left for me to teach and guide them through. Thus, they come to me for counsel occasionally, but never together anymore. It's always private between myself and my son.

As a father of four uniquely individual sons, a rare meeting such as this is both interesting and worrisome.

Leonardo met me at my door, ever the mindful son. My old bones have been reminding me just how old they truly are in the mornings now, and I foolishly told Donatello such the other day. Since then, Leonardo has been a silent ghost beside me until I have stretched and drank my morning tea. His gentle expression contains no pity, and I find myself regretting my confession less each day. I am not a burden to him; I suspect he considers it his honour to be at my side in the occasion I need assistance.

Instead of the kitchen, Leonardo steers me toward the TV area, watching me closely until I have comfortably settled into my armchair. Once I do, he rests on the couch next to Donatello, who is already present with his eyes fixed fast on a thick tome in his lap. Raphael is pacing in front of the row of TV's, appearing abnormally nervous. Michaelangelo had been the one to organize this meeting; I briefly wondered where he was before I released the thought. I had long ago given up trying to predict my youngest son, happy to encourage his spontaneity instead.

We didn't have long to wait; not two minutes later Michaelangelo raced from upstairs, skidding to a halt beside Raphael, breathless and flushed. His movements are underlined with a similar anxiety, but the smile on his face is bright and genuine. He and Raphael speak in hushed tones, their voices so quiet even my keen hearing didn't pick up their words, before Michaelangelo clears his throat and politely asks Donatello to close his book. I notice Raphael clicking the nails of his right hand together; a nervous habit of his.

I admit, my curiosity is peaked. From their expressions, Leonardo and Donatello are interested as well.

The rushed declaration of more than brotherly love that spills from Michaelangelo is only mildly surprising to me. He and Raphael have grown ever closer as they've matured, and I had reached this conclusion long before they had. I've had plenty of time to become accustomed to the idea of them as a pair within the team, and I am more than prepared to welcome their relationship. I worried over them as children, saddened to think they would know nothing but fatherly and brotherly love; I am actually quite pleased at this turn of events.

Midway through Michaelangelo's confession, Raphael catches my eye and I smile indulgently; his right hand stills as he relaxes, hesitantly reaching over to twine his fingers with Michaelangelo's.

Donatello appears only slightly surprised, which I expected. Not much slips past Donatello or Michaelangelo; they are both quite intuitive about our family.

The uncomfortable look twisting Leonardo's gentle features is predictable as well. Leonardo lives his life as the arrow; straight and true to the mark, aware of his surroundings only so that he may better judge his distance from the goal. I am relieved to find only hesitation in his eyes; no fear or disgust. Excellent.

Michaelangelo then turns to me, nearly panting from the exertion of his admission, asking for my opinion. As with Raphael, he sees my acceptance before I voice it, and the largest grin crosses his face as he tightens his arms around Raphael. I spend the next half hour explaining my previous guesses of their relationship- at which they scuff their feet in embarrassment- and my heightened expectations of both of them within their team and our family. As long as they can remain focused on their training, and not favour each other on the battlefield at the expense of their other brothers, I am more than ready to give my blessing.

There's many rounds of hugging and congratulations; Leonardo relaxes and smiles, Donatello's makes several humourous comments that have us chuckling before we begin to drift toward the kitchen.

My morning tea is going to be especially delicious today.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two  
><em>Leonardo<em>

Unsurprisingly, after my brother's confession yesterday, I spent all of my spare time in meditation. I was quite certain Donatello and my father had foreseen this, and I had not. Considering my family was accepting of this new phase of our lives, I used my energy to puzzle out why I had been in the dark.

Had I been forsaking my leadership duties? Or worse, my brotherly ones? Had I not been involved in my brother's lives enough for them to confide in me, or for me to miss clues and hints? Were my powers of observation failing?

Or had they simply been very, very careful?

I suspected the latter, but I tolerated no weakness in myself if I could help it, and thus I used the afternoon to reassure myself that I hadn't failed them on such a personal level. I didn't succeed.

However, as I was reexamining myself and my actions, a thought drifted across my mind which gripped me with an unnamed dread.

Raphael and Michaelangelo were together. Logically, that left two of us. And I knew Donatello loved logic as much as I loved my meditation.

If he had known of their affection, could he be expecting the same of me- of us? Together?

I have never looked at another man in that manner. I haven't, in fact, looked at hardly anyone like that; I had only indulged in such fantasies when I occasionally 'borrowed' questionable DVD's from Donatello's not-so-secret stash. I rarely thought of anything, or anyone, specific when I had time to myself.

But it had never once occurred to me to think of a man. Much less, one of my own brothers!

That night I was so consumed with worry I was unable to sleep for more than a few moments at a time. I knew I had to resolve this potential problem with Donatello, and quickly, lest it drive me into a depression. I have no desire to hurt Donatello, but I knew I'd have to if he'd been down this train of thought already.

So, tonight I had easily convinced him to side with me on our nightly patrol, and I'd led us to one of our favourite lookout points before signaling for a rest. He was puzzled by my request, immediately inquiring about health, which I refuted enthusiastically.

I stumbled over my words as I haltingly explained my concern. His smile was immediate, though not as reassuring as I had hoped. However, he denied any previous hopes, even when I pressed him with carefully constructed questions.

His dark eyes never wavered from mine as he repeated himself.

Momentarily satisfied, we continued our patrol of the city, returning long before our brothers to a quiet lair. As a last precaution, I asked him once more before we parted ways for the night.

The hesitation in his answer was barely a half second, but I noted it with a foreboding sense of dread. That night I didn't sleep once again.


End file.
